


The Last Time

by bigbrotherandlittlebrother



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7664971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbrotherandlittlebrother/pseuds/bigbrotherandlittlebrother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hand grasped in the other, slick with sweat and blood, Sam and Dean smile at each other, one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> based off an interview where a writer was asked what they envisioned as endgame for the Winchesters
> 
> \- "Some days we see them going off a cliff holding hands in the impala"

One hand grasped in the other, slick with sweat and blood, Sam and Dean smile at each other, one last time. 

"We did it, brother," Dean says, dried lips, swollen and bruised, "We fought the fight. We won."

There are tears embedded in the creases of Sam's eyes, resting there and blurring his vision. 

He nods, looks at Dean like the boy he always knew, the boy that used to make him chicken soup on cold days. The boy that used to stitch up his wounds and carry him to bed. The boy that never stopped loving him, not really, anyway.

"For as long as I have lived, I've known there is no one I could love more than you." Sam whispers out the words like they're a promise. Stutters through them like they were his darkest secret.

They look at each other for a pregnant moment before Dean leans over, pushes away the bangs sticking to Sam's face, and kisses him. 

He lets it linger. Lets Sam feel the wetness of his lips before it's replaced with the coldness of air around them. Before its replaced with the bugs that would soon eat away at his skin. 

Dean pulls away and Sam lets out a broken sob, nods once more before turning in his seat. 

Looking there in front of him and seeing the sun fading away with the blur of night, Sam thinks, that nothing has ever felt this right. 

Dean starts the car, he drives and he doesn't stop.

The clouds have left, the sky has opened, the world would continue living, even after they die.

The world would not make a sound.

The sky would not mourn.

The world would not care, not at all. 

Later on, the boys would be found with their bodies latched together, skeletal forms, nothing left to prove it was them.

And in heaven there would be a matching car, two boys with dirt covered jeans and old ripped flannels, sitting on a hood of an impala, drinking a cold beer and watching stars dance through the night. There would be fireworks and home-cooked meals. Mothers tucking them in at night. There would be warmness and security.

 

There would be no loss.

-End


End file.
